Quest When hope is lost (Ricky)

[Mirage]

87th of Spring, 514 AV Location: Wildlands Ricky's head hurt. It throbbed, dull and steady, emanating from a point near the base of his neck where his spine connected to his skull. It was dark, and he lay on his side, a rock digging into his hip and the way his body was sprawled was unnatural, not how he would normally sleep. Blinking his eyes open his vision was blurry, unfocused but a few feet away there was a flickering light. A fire perhaps? Now that his consciousness was awakening once more he could make out voices, laughing. Deep voices of men, gruff and fowl mouthed. The smell of cooking meat, slurred speech and the slosh of liquid in a mug. More laughter. He couldn't move his arms, and with later inspection he would notice his hands were tied behind his back. His feet as well were tied, but thankfully there was a little more wiggle room with his ankles so he could shift their position ever so slightly. All he had on his person was the clothes on his back. The thieves had even taken his boots. There was no telling where the rest of his belongings had gone. With his head still hurting, Ricky would discover that he could not remember HOW he had come to be in this position. He remembered stopping for the night, but had he met someone? Did he stop at a Travelers rest? Did he try to camp on the ground? It was all a blur. He could not even remember being hit and knocked unconscious. Also, it seemed he was not alone. There was a woman tied up like he was facing toward him. She still did not seem to be conscious, and he felt a body pressing against his back as well. This one would be male, and older man with a bearded face who faced in the other direction. Around the fire there were 3 men, but because of the lighting no details about them could be made out. HE could hear the sounds of horses not too far. There was no sign of any of his belongings in the immediate area. Ricky was caught in a sticky situation. What he decided to do, and how executed it would be crucial for his survival. What was to become of Ricky Maze? It seemed only time would tell.

[Ricky Maze]

There was just something about adventure Ricky really started to hate nowadays, seeing as how the ground could very easily be uncomfortable. His trip to save his very life had been long and harsh as he hated every waking moment while on the road, and in turn missed the comforts of home with his wife and child. That's right. Martin still waited for him! The child that was left in the care of his Godfather had to be lonely by now, crying aloud as he wished for his parents to come and comfort him back to sleep. To think such nights weren't so precious anymore, never again was Ricky going to think otherwise about those moments. They were pure genuine happiness for him, and in turn he would never take any of them fore granted ever again!

But this rock... Damn this petching rock! He tried to move but he felt his limbs were constricted, and then the crack of his eyelids revealed a blurred world with little memory of getting here. He felt exhausted. Always felt exhausted and the headaches were getting worse, this time though it literally felt as though his head were hit with a shovel. Usually the center of his skull wanted to rupture, so in that case this was something different for him. De petch is goin' on? He wondered in silence as the grogginess finally started to wear away, sure enough he found that he was in an encampment with just his vest and his trousers... the boots were removed. Dis ain't where Oi went t' sleep at. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to recall where he was last, but the memory failed to exist it seems as nothing could follow the recollection attempt.

Where was Hannah? Where was Telion? Where the petch did the caravan go?! This wasn't where he rested his head last, nor did he recognize any of the voices that filled the air. Gruff men celebrating their night it seems, they were more less enjoying the enlightenment of the campfire. Oi'm not alone. He noticed as he tried to struggle out of his bonds, the ankles more or less loose compared to his hands. No good came when he tried to break his wrists free, the bonds were too snug and too strong. They held down the Zeltivan Bear as he tried to gather what he could of the situation. Across from him was a woman who seemed to be bound, unconscious just as he was not but a moment ago. Then of course Ricky realized there was one more behind him, a large fellow like he was with an impressive beard of his own. Slavers? Could dis be a 'ostage situation? It certainly looked as that were the case, if they were slavers or just simple vagabonds he hadn't the time to worry. He was trapped after all, and he wasn't alone.

Oi've t' see if eit'er o' t'ese tw' can 'elp. He tried to keep a steady intake of breath to remain calm, allowing his mind to try and focus on getting out of this mess he'd been caught up in. If he was caught and brought here then those three men had to be sneaky, and clever enough to get the jump on him and the other two. Though it wouldn't make sense as to why a woman would be alone, Ricky assumed she was with the big fellow that was behind him. From what Ricky could see out the corner of his eye, the bearded guy could either be awake or only partially conscious. Either served well for him, right now he just needed to try gather information on their captors.

"Psst," He murmured over his shoulder, "Psst. 'ey!" He tried to nudge his shoulder into the man's back, hopeful he could get a stir while at the same time avoiding attention from the three men around the campfire."Wake up mate. We've a situation we need t' get out o'."

[Mirage]

The man groaned, but did not seem to be fully awake yet. The laughter around the campfire increased, and now he could make out some of the voices.

"Holy petch we scored big this time! All them horses, and we got some pretty girls ta play with too."

"Yeh got tha' right!" This voice was louder, obviously more drunk as his already thick absent was getting worse by the tick, "Gonna be playin lots whi tem girlies. I lik 'em young. Theh 're teh best and scream whe' I realleh get goin."

"Bofure you sick bastard, keep your hands off of the cargo. They have to be in good condition if we are going to sell them in Ravok." This voice was clearer, and it came from a man who faced him across the fire. He was in his mid thirties. From the lighting Ricky could see that half of his face looked as if it had been badly burned at some point, and patches of his hair and beard were bald and fleshy. His eyes though were clear, intelligent and cruel, "Leave them alone, unless you want that bottle shoved up your ass."

Bofure, the large man who sat with his back to Ricky, raised the bottle to his lips and took a long, loud, chug, "I gottsa' place fer tis bottle, rit in that youngun's tight li'le--"

"If you finish that sentence," Scare face interrupted, his dagger already in his hands, "I will cut off your balls and make you wear them around your neck and shove your own dick up your fat ass."

The fat man abruptly stood, "Wha' yeh say?" He wobbled a moment before finding his balance, pointing the bottle at the other man's face, "Yeh' jus' try it an' I'll kick yer arse all teh way ba' teh Sunberth."

Scar's expression darkened and he stood suddenly. Bofure flinched and tried to step back but stumbled over the log he had been sitting on. He yelped and fell backwards and the bottle flew from his hands, crashing and shattering and sending a spray of glass and half drunk wine all over Ricky and the other man who, now, was no longer unconscious.

"Serves you right you fat tub of lard. Go to bed before I skin you and cook you to feed the real men."

Bofure slowly picked himself up, wobbling as he reached his feet and grumbled under his breath. he looked about to say something else but the look in the Scar man's eyes shut him up quick and so he simply turned and walked off into the darkness, most likely to do the exact opposite of what he was ordered to do.

The man behind Ricky for his part remained quiet as he tried to shift himself slightly to look back over his shoulder. In the darkness their movements were hidden from those near the fire, but any loud or sudden noises would surely bring their attention. Ricky's head and shoulders were soaked with wine which stung the small cuts from bits of glass that stuck from his skin. Nothing serious as most of the larger shards remained above his head, though a few landed between him and the other captured man as well.

The scarred man sat down once more, sheathing his dagger and taking up what looked like a half eaten chicken leg. He waved off any drinks offered to him though. Of all those around the fire he was the most alert.

[Ricky Maze]

The sudden bellow from one of the men led Ricky to almost jump out of his skin as he thought there might've been a chance, yet only a temporary relief followed as he zoned in to eavesdrop on the conversation that finally came into the clear for him. Girls? Gods no... dat must mean! His heart sank as he realized they could very well be talking about Telion and Hannah, his wife and the Godmother of Martin, they were at the caravan too. If that was the case then the merchant, he surely must've been caught! There was only a chance of hope that was the case, as he served as their guide to Syliras more or less. Time was of the essence now though, if these men had taken the women as well... and if fat ass actually intended to touch one of them, then sure enough there would be a reckoning to provide.

C'mon Rick! Focus! Focus! He tried to keep his breath under control but challenge proved difficult, the acceleration of his heart rate at the worry of his beloved... The thought that she would be violated whilst he hadn't the chance to stop it. No. There was still hope, there was still something he could do. He just needed to wait it out, and learn what he can whilst he composed himself a plan. He had ways to fight, ways to counteract. Magic being on his side, even if he were against it, that was already one edge to have. But first... patience. He won't touch 'er, he won't touch eit'er o' dem. He assured himself in silent thought, as his mind tried to focus on the conversation that continued. Rest assured this "Bofure" was an absolutely disgusting man, something that set Ricky's nerves on fire by the mere sound of his voice. The way he talked about women... clearly he was a pig ridden bastard spawned from the yearnings of an poorly affectionate whore.

Focus. He couldn't afford to lose himself to emotion just yet, not when he had to gather intel on these men somehow. Listening was only half of the goal, using what he learned was the tricky part. Wha? Oh shyke! Ricky screwed his eyes tightly shut as he felt the spray of glass and wine over his face as torso, a tangy sort of aroma filled his nostrils from the beverage that soaked into his vest. He had to literally grind his teeth as he felt the tiny nips made from loose glass on his skin burn, an urge to bit his hand strongly present as he caged within him a cry of pain. He was strong. He had to be strong. Telion and Hannah needed him, especially if fat ass planned otherwise. Ricky honestly doubted he would go to bed like he was told, even though he hoped such was the case, he already placed that as part of his wishful thinking. The Scar man looked to be the leader of the group, and judging by his actions he was a serious character.

Serious as in someone not to fool around with, by the looks of him he'd seen plenty of fights before. The brains of the pack no doubt, the alpha that had his way. Ricky could likely use that to his gain if he could figure out ways to challenge that... maybe the "Bofure" fellow could serve purpose. Tactic idea number one made at least, still needed more to figure out before he could dare try anything though. Huh? The man behind Ricky stirred, and in turn that led to a piece of glass being pressed into his flesh. The moment it hurt was the moment Ricky realized this glass was right in his grasp, he only needed the desire to take it That desire needed be questioned already. With a low hiss muffled between his teeth Ricky tried to position the shard to where it fell into his hand, as he felt the pressure of the shard's point numb his forearm. There was warmth next, as he new very well what followed. He'd been cut on the side of his forearm now, but it was a cut that hadn't been too deep... or so he hoped.

At any rate the important thing to note was that the shard finally fell into his hands, and as he tried to position the edge of it towards his bonds he would shift a little here and there to try and make the task easier. Big guy's awake now, hopefully he'll be ready t' make a stand soon. His thoughts went to the woman that was across from him, and he could only hope that she hadn't suffered such a horrid fate under the whims of "Bofure" the great lard. Nor the women that were out of his sight. "Oy mate." He whispered quietly over his shoulder. "Listen, t'ere ain't a lot o' time t' make a stand. T'ese bastards are slavers an' intend on sellin us, Oi dun plan t' even let dem touch anot'er soul when we're unbound." He assured the man who he hoped would serve a great ally in this predicament. "If ye know anyt'in 'bout t'ese bastards now would be a great time t' share mate, as Oi'm cuttin us loose 'ere soon." He instructed as he continued to try and formulate a plan.

Whatever he could learn from his fellow captive the better, as Ricky intended to make sure nobody but these slavers would be the ones to hurt. Especially the larger one, he definitely needed to be put in his place for a night. Ricky had already started to try cutting loose his bonds, his hand pressed firmly on the shard as he tried to saw through the rope that held their wrists together. There was large quantities of pain in his left hand of course and the wet warmth of blood as it cooled in the process. He was pretty sure both his arm and hand had suffered cuts now, but cared little as his determination set him on saving the love of his life... and those around him of course.

[Mirage]

The man shook his head, trying to clear it and shake off his grogginess as he took in the situation. He shifted a bit more to look over his shoulder toward the fire and those sitting around. His face was pocket marked, his beard was long and unkept and there were streaks of gray there as well. He had a deep tan and green eyes like emeralds that were bright and intelligent. He glanced at Ricky a moment before rolling back on his side, working his wrists in his bonds as he spoke in a soft, gruff voice, "Calm yer ass down and focus on cutt'n yerself free." His voice was deep, and there was an air of command there, "An' yer a daft fool if yeh think yer gonna make a stand 'ere."

The man twisted his wrists together, wriggling them back and forth as he suppressed a groan. There was a slight popping sound as one of the man's hands came free. Rolling onto his back he grabbed his wrist with his other free hand, his face grimacing as there was another popping sound and he flexed his fingers. He then lay very still a moment, eyes looking toward the campfire, specifically at scarface who was distracted by a conversation with a man to his left, turning his gaze away from them for the moment.

Looking at Ricky's work with the glass he sighed, and grabbed the sharp instrument from him, finishing freeing Ricky in a few ticks but before Ricky could move he would put a hand on his shoulder and whisper, "Don' move yet." he remained perfectly still as well, watching the campfire as the Scar man stood and threw dirt on the fire, laughing as he did and began walking toward them.

Rolling back onto his side the man grabbed the ropes, looping them back around his wrists to give the illusion they were still tied and then went limp, remaining perfectly still as Scar and his two companions walked past. They did not even glance in their direction. Once they had past the man rolled back over, taking the piece of glass and cutting his ankles free before turning to do the same to Ricky's, "Stay quiet and do exactly what I say. Yeh got it?" It wasn't really a question and the man then rose to a crouch, motioning for Ricky to do the same. He lead the way away from the small camp, into the surrounding trees to take cover in the foliage for the moment. Once there he would kneel, squinting his eyes into the darkness, "Yeh can call meh Ser Crowley, or just Crowley I dun much care which. What's yer name?"

[Ricky Maze]

To hear the man behind him finally speak slightly set Ricky in a state of relief and yet put him on edge, as the instruction given to him was more or less done so with a gruff tone of voice he hadn't quite expected to hear. But of course the man was just a large as Ricky was he not? He was definitely a sizeable character that shouldn't probably be trifled with, lest the idiot that did so happen to have a death wish of some sort. The fisherman ground his teeth together sharply until he felt his jaws ache, the effort to cut himself free strained as he found only pain within his hand. Daft? Dat be a first t' hear, all de same Oi just need t' save de women. He reminded himself as he looked in the direction the fat ass Bofure walked off to before darkness enveloped his figure, he could only hope no screams or muffled cries would soon follow as he tried to free himself.

The glass was grabbed from him and just before he could think or say anything on it, he felt the constraints around his wrists loosen as the bonds were finally cut. Yet the freedom had only been temporary as he was instructed to avoid movement, and with a good reason too seeing as how the fire was put out by scar face and the other companions that were with him move past. It was clever of his fellow captive to pretend he was still caught, and all the same Ricky needn't to be told twice to do the same as he remained still as though he had yet to regain consciousness. However of course the idea wasn't so easy to comply with, as Ricky already felt his strongest impulses in regards to react and protect the things he loved most. The fact two of the most precious people he knew were in danger as well, that didn't sit well with his nature which in turned made the internal struggle seemed all the more dragged out as they were passed by.

The all clear was given and in turn the fellow that cut his hands free finally released Ricky from the bonds around his ankles, "Yea yea, Oi gotcha mate." Ricky responded in an urgent manner, ready to end this minor crisis he wound up in. He followed the man as they made their way into the clearing of the bushes, the urges to turn back and find Telion and Hannah hard to resist as he fought desperately not to give into his impulses. They had to get through this but they had to do so in a manner less destructive, if he gave in to his usual strong innate desires then sure enough he would only cause hurt to himself and those around him.

"Good t' meet ya mate, call me Ricky." He responded as he knelt next to the man who called himself Ser Crowley, he had to admit it was rather different compared to the usual introductions he would hear... then again this meeting in general was by far different from the usual, seeing as how they were both captives to slavers. "Listen mate Oi've a wife and a friend Oi'd rat'er see safe, an' t'eir friend Bofure doesn't seem de type t' listen t' reason." He had to admit when he said reason there was definitely a strong exaggeration there, as reason alone didn't seem present in the current state of the situation. They were free now so they could formulate a strategy, create a plan of action that would help save everyone and bring this nightmare to an end. "Oi 'aven't learned much 'bout de bastards t'ough, at best Oi can only say t'eir leader is the scar faced guy an' he's a serious fella." Of course this information had to already be obvious for Crowley, but it was the best lead Ricky had to start in creating a plan. Wherever this was bound to lead Ricky was prepared for sure though, he'd make sure he'd be ready to fight with whatever means he had. Magic or no magic, fist or weapon. Something was going to go down though, something he had to at least be ready for.

[Mirage]

"Considerin' the circumstances, it's good tah have ya." He extended a hand, offering a bit of formality despite the situation. Shifting so that he knelt on his other knee Crowley stroked his beard, "I don' remember much mehself... But that don' much matter now does it? Yah say ya got a wife? First things first then, we gotta find 'em and the rest of the one's they caught."

Standing the man undid the ties of his pants, reaching in to dig around between his thighs. He looked at Ricky and winked, "Li'l trick I learned from a harlot years ago. Not often men search everywhere." And sure enough from his britches he pulled out a sheathed dagger, straps around the hilt that would have held it to the insides of his thigh, "Chaffs worse n a unwashed bum, but I'll be damned if it aint saved meh life." Tying the dagger to his waist he motioned to Ricky, "Let's go, but stay low and avoid any lights. We don wanna draw attention to us just yet."

Crowley lead them around the parameter of the camp, for it was indeed a count. the area they had been in was section off to the side, the horses tied there to a tree were quiet in the night. Now as they circled around they would see tents now set up in rows. A good number as well, at least 8, and no indication to how many people filled them. There were 3 wagons as well, most likely holding stolen goods from other caravans, and on the other side of the camp was a large cage on wheels. Inside it were slaves, but the number was hard to make out. Two men guarded the cage, torches dug into the ground as they lazily leaned on their swords, drinking from a barrel between them, dipping their mugs in and talking quietly to one another.

Crowley crouched once more, scratching his beard as he observed the situation, "Good news is I don' see the big'un 'round. Maybe he did go on tah bed. Bad news, we got a camp of bandits and a locked cage between us an' them. What's worse is that we don' know how long till they notice we 're missin." He looked over at the wagons, "Chances are my armor and weapons 're in one 'o those wagons. The guards probably have the key. What do ya think?"

[Ricky Maze]

Slightly amused at the presence of formality in this situation Ricky chuckled, and then in turn took the hand to give a firm strong shake just before the both of them resumed the current task at hand. Unfortunately he held no information on these men other than the same amount as what Ricky started with, and of course seeing as how he knew just how important saving Telion was to Ricky, Crowley suggested the exact idea Ricky had from the beginning when they had their bonds finally removed. He had to admit he could still feel the sting of the wine on the small nicks on his skin, but even then the only real pain was the throb he had in the cut on his hand and on his forearm. Petchin' glass.

He looked at the damage to find that both cuts were indeed minor compared to how they felt at first, even so they had just a little while before they would finally close and heal further from his escape attempt. There was only a sigh from the fisherman, he expected this would lead to the outcome of another scar or two, as he always wound up in a situation to earn them one way or another. Go figure, might as well be ready fer more later o- Gah! His thoughts were cut off as his attention shifted back to Crowley, who had unfastened his belt and started to reach within his trousers. He no doubt got a weird look from Ricky at first but that didn't stop the man from winking, with an explanation to follow as to what exactly he was doing that served proper in situations like this. He huffed just a bit in awe, amazed to think that such a clever little idea actually seemed to work.

"Aye Oi bet, t' t'ink nobody ain't ever t'ought o' dat. Oi'll 'ave t' take a page from yer book den." He quipped with a slight chuckle, but of course the timing for joke and humor was improper, now they had work to do. Ricky nodded at the words Crowley instructed, already in high agreement to avoid anything that would rouse chance for another capture. "Lead de way mate." He motioned as his new companion lead onward within the outer reaches of the camp, passed where they started and where horses remained at rest, and in turn came to find that there was more than just a few men who rested here. Eight tents. Eight petching tents! "Ye gotta be shykin me." The fisherman mumbled to himself in silence, if his luck hadn't gone to the Void before this trip, then it no doubt went there now. Sure enough there was the cage and boy if Ricky didn't have the urge to save his beloved before, he sure did now when it came to powerful impulses.

Literally he had to resist the overpowering urge to just walk up on these bastards and use his Reimancy on them, even so he couldn't put himself and those in the area at risk by rash acts that generally led to one's own undoing. No... This had to be done right, and carefully too lest they ruin what decent odds they had... if they had any already. Focus mate. Don't let yer self be distracted yet. He reminded himself as he kept his eyes on the prize, he had no doubt that Telion and Hannah were both somewhere within that cage that remained guarded. "No shyke," He retorted to the man with a slight smirk, "Dat be de only good news it seems." He added as he contemplated what their course of action should be. They had little options really and time was still of the essence in regards to getting out of this mess, therefore what Crowley mentioned next was taken into deep thorough thought as the fisherman stroked his own beard for about half a chime.

"If yer weapons an' armor be in one o' dem wagons, den me own weapons should be dere as well." Ricky's eyes floated from the wagons over to the two guards, brows furrowed as he connected speculation and assumption into one and weighed chances with several factors. Odds 're better if we can scrounge our gear an' nab dem keys, an' dere's only tw' men compared t' de entire camp. Best bet is t' quietly take em out somehow, an' Crowley, He looked to his companion for a moment and then to the weapon at his waist, He's gotta dagger so he'll 'ave t' get close up t' dem, only way t' make sure dat happens 'afore dey make so much noise... Again.. magic sounded like the simple solution but this was something different, instead of going nuts and letting pockets of water fling about, Ricky had formulated an idea that would serve purposeful in disposing one of the men. Hell it could probably dispose both of them if they breathed in enough Res, what was important was whether or not Ricky could get close enough to keep control while at the same time remain unnoticed.

"Okay mate Oi've got an idea, a couple in fact. Both put me at a risk but only cause yew 'ave a weapon an' Oi don't. First idea is usin' magic which can be tricky, if Oi can get close t' make dese bastards breathe in me Res when it's in a gaseous form, Oi can drown dem on de spot 'afore dey make a noise. Second idea involves... well Oi'm basically de bait dat'll distract 'em fer a moment, while yew come up from behind and shank 'em in de back. " He explained with a harsh unmoving look cast towards the guards drinking mead. "We git ahold o' our equipment first an' den deal wit' dem vagiks discreetly, fr'm dere... Oi'll worry bout dat if we're successful." He finished with a nod as he looked uncertain, but determined, as to how well this would go. He finally looked to Crowley once more with a bit of a smirk on his face, hopeful that his companion was up for what would no doubt be a proper challenge. "Gear first an' den guards second, whichever plan sounds roi t' yew Oi'm good wit'."

He had to admit both were crazy but they were bound to work, unless Crowley himself had some crazy idea he had yet to share with Ricky. All the same it was important to dispose of these men quickly and quietly, and what formulated plans Ricky had constructed could do both if they would find surprise in one of their prisoners escaping. It all depended on multiple factors really, who knows maybe the bastards were getting drunk enough to think they were imagining things. Whatever was to come though Ricky would be ready, ready and willing to go out of his way and place himself in danger, if it meant getting the others out of their own prison and free from the encampment.

[Mirage]

"A magicer eyh... well t'at explains alot." he said, eyeing Ricky up and down as if his insanity had just been confirmed, "But if yer insane then yer a good kinda insane, but yer lacken in the strategy department." He nodded towards the guards, "What yeh think they would do if yeh suddenly throw water down there throats? Kick and clamber and make a real fuss of it, probably wake teh entire camp. Same thing if ye try to distract 'em. No, best bet is teh take 'em out at teh same time, b'fore teh can make a sound."

Scratching his beard Crowley muttered to himself before looking at Ricky, "Alright, heres what we 're gonna do. First we gotta get to meh weapons. Need sometin more t'an this li'l poker teh be safe. Then we sneak on around behind 'em. You douse t'eir lanterns and while they are confused you take one and ill take teh other one. We gotta kill 'em at teh same time though, before they can get the alarm off. Whatcha t'ink o' dat plan?"

OOCThe planning stage is always fun lol

[Ricky Maze]

oocI agree! ^.^ Ricky certainly does need to think smarter instead of bolder with his strategies though, probably due to his impulsiveness and eagerness to rush though. Nevertheless I hope you don't mind me moving it further just a wee little, so you should be able to fill in the blanks I left open for Crowley's interaction. If anything needs to be changed or edited a little please let me know!

Also, you get to determine if the launch was successful.

"Not really," Ricky shrugged at the comment of being a magicer and listened to Crowley further, a chuckle followed as he wondered just what exactly his companion had in mind that would do better, "aye Oi admit plannin' long term ain't me strong suit. Whatchu got in mind?" His brows furrowed as he contemplated on what Crowley said next though, considerate to the possibility that would've been given had he gone through with drowning them. Sure it wouldn't have been entirely quiet but then again they wouldn't have been able to make much sound either, at least not with their throats considering they'd be full of water. Distraction he knew would carry the risk but it was a quick solution he came up with, one that would prove even more challenging seeing as how only one of them was officially 'armed'.

Then of course the mention of weapons, which was a given, sounded like the better idea from the beginning. Of course there was no guarantee that his own weapons would be with Crowley's, even so it would improve their chances if they at least sorted through what items they could obtain first. The idea of killing these bastards unsettled Ricky a little, but there wasn't much of an option left for them if they were to make it out alive. Therefore the time for regrets wasn't now, and wouldn't come on this night by the looks of it. Still he had to focus, focus on the main task that would keep him going. Saving Telion. By the sound of it they would have to go with carrying out the silently swift execution of these two men, and that alone would be their first step in the endeavor to rescue everyone in trouble here.

"Aight den, let's git some gear so we can git dis over wit'." Ricky agreed as he motioned for the wagons of goods, they both remained quiet in their sneaky venture to the spot where hopefully some useful weapons would lie. Sure enough they'd hit the jackpot. There was several weapons and by the looks of it a suit of armor for one, no doubt Crowley's seeing as he was some sort of adventurer. Probably a knight or so Ricky figured, but that wasn't relevant to the point now was it? They only came here for gear after all and gear they would have, so whether or not the armor was truly Crowley's was a question Ricky paid little care to at the moment. Unfortunately for Ricky there didn't look to be any boots or shoes for him to wear, but carefully and quietly scrounging through the goods he did uncover something familiar. The hilt of a blade designed to match that of a wave, the crest of the handguard adorned with a sapphire that matched the very same resemblance to his own longsword. In fact... it was his own longsword.

"T'ank Priskil fer dis." He murmured to himself as he freed his weapon from the pile of goods in the wagon, once the blade had been in his grasp he didn't waste time in tying the scabbard to his belt. "Okay, now we can get started on de attack." Whether it was Ricky being impulsive or he felt confident enough to execute this plan, he suddenly found himself quick but quiet to lead the both of them once Crowley had finished equipping himself with whatever he deemed necessary. The both of them did as planned and quietly stalked about in the shadows as they crept up to the cage, closer and closer until they were just barely within the reaches of the dimly lit space of the lantern. Darkness was their friend, their ally on this night. It would cloak them and permit swift and silent executions, and in turn would be a night Ricky would never wish to kill again. Spilling blood not being his favorite thing in the world, he found the act of killing something difficult to face and cope with. But tonight he needed to shut that part of him out, he needed to switch off that human side and let instinct take over. "Okay, 'ere goes." He whispered to Crowley before he tapped into his reserves, the inner reaches of his Djed that coursed throughout his body.

He silenced the voice in his head for a moment and closed his eyes, tuned out the words of the two guards that were stationed ahead. They were in his range, he could control his Res enough to douse the lantern. He just had to believe. Believe he could do it, believe that he wouldn't fail this time like he did before. Oi can do dis, Oi can. Oi know Oi can. His eyes parted open and focused on not the two men but the target that rested between them, the lantern that shielded them with but the essence of light that held back the vast cloak of darkness. O' waters from deep wit'in, 'eed me call as Oi cast dis small but handy spell. Though it wasn't much of a spell in his head this wasn't a time to question it, he had to act on whim and make intent known. With a hand brought up as he knelt down, he balled it into a tight fist as he channeled for the Djed in his body.

As he felt the course of power entice him in the flow throughout his arm, he then released the fist into an open hand that clutched the air as Djed started to form above his palm and mold into the royal blue Res he would conjure. The ball was about the size of a pea before it grew in size, enough to be considered a pebble of ooze before he finally transmuted the outer layer into water. He remembered the lesson Clyde gave him last season, the lesson about intent and magic. He had to clear his mind of speculation and allow his will to take over, let it govern what he wanted to occur with the watery orb that floated above his hand. The clutch he held was released and the sphere floated upward to be free from the hold he held, and then it would piston up and down as he changed the position of his hand to where two fingers pointed straight up. Then Ricky would rotate them counterclockwise around an invisible core, and in turn send notions for his Res to do the same.

The sphere rotated around Ricky in a steady momentum, one that started to build as it followed the same motion as Ricky's fingers. For a couple of full complete rotations he did this, until on the final round he would move his fingers from the up position to point forward before him, mind solely focused on the lantern as his intended target to hit. The water ball mimed his action and in turn flung forth with the built momentum it gained, the zone of control quickly reaching the limit as Ricky felt his grasp over the Res loosen, until at last what he felt was his connection nearly severed he transmuted the rest of the sphere to water, in turn making an entire ball of water fly forth towards the object of his focus. Let's see if his luck was finally turning around like he'd hoped.